EPISODE 18 – Walk with Me – Part II

We got the deer. We'd packed before dawn and discreetly walked to a small river down the hill. We caught it as it came to drink in the early lights. And Daryl let me shoot first once again. I pierced its chest, yet it was not enough, and the beautiful beast just leaped away.

"Nice shot," he quietly cheered.

"How can ye say that? It got away!"

"Now we just follow its trail. With how ya wounded it, it probably can't even breathe well. We'll catch up with it, easy."

We split up so we'd cover more ground, even surround it. And Daryl put the poor thing out of its misery later in the morning. Then, we carried it back to the river, so he could show me how to gut it and cut it in pieces. The main problem was to keep the meat from going bad. If I was queasy at first, pitying the animal, I quickly forgot about that as I'm swearing and damning it now.

My arms and hands hurt from cutting and skinning. I've got fresh blood everywhere. It's less disgusting that rotten walker's blood, but still. There's enough to turn me vegetarian from now on. When I tell Daryl that, he scoffs.

It's nice to see him in his element. He belongs here. Everything seems easier for him. He knows what he needs to do, never hesitates, and he feels calm, confident. Almost happy.

If it weren't for the group, he could certainly survive on his own here. The fact that he even talks about how we'll make it back tomorrow is a testament to how much he's come to love this patchwork family that's waiting for us. Even if he'll never admit it.

When we're done, he sighs and lies back on the grass to enjoy a little rest. The night was short. I would do the same, but first, I need to wash up a bit. I try to scrub off my arms in the river, with the bar of soap I brought. The water is freezing, but invigorating too. It reminds me of the brook behind my house when I was a kid, or the one at the bottom of the hill where the twins and I settled in Ireland.

So, I glance at Daryl that is enjoying the sun with his eyes closed, and swiftly pull off my shirt. I then unbutton my pants and wriggle out of them. Next, I glance back again, a little less sure, but still, keeping my back to him, I quickly get rid of my bra and knickers to walk into the icy cold water. It makes me gasp. But I advance enough to rapidly drop inside when there's enough depth.

Jesus Christ, it's good.

I promptly lather the soap, because I can already feel my muscles constrict with the bite of the stream. Then, I run out.

Daryl has sat up and averts his eyes when I come back. I don't have a towel; I can only wipe myself up hastily with a shirt before lying in the sun and hoping it'll finish drying me. I let the shirt rest on my torso with a bit of modesty. Though I'm not getting dressed just yet.

After a moment of wavering, I get a glimpse of Daryl who gets up and gets rid of his own sullied shirt as well. He then steps out of his pants, not looking back at me, ever, and after another hesitation, gets his underwear off too. Like me, he came to the conclusion that it would be stupid to get it wet out of shyness. Still, he gets in the water, turning his back on me, but also with his hand over his nether regions.

Though what strikes me instantly are the scars. Very similar to my own.

I sneakily sit up and watch as he cleans himself up. The lines of muscles on his back moving with his motions. The tattooed demons on his shoulder blade, much like the demon wing at the same place on mine. And those scars tell me the childhood stories that he won't.

I make a show of putting my hand over my eyes when he comes out. Though I peek between my fingers when I see him putting back his underwear even though he's still wet. And he comes to sit beside me on the patch of grass under the sun.

I'm sitting up, with my knees bent before me, and my arms around them to hide my breasts. We remain quiet for a long moment, recognising one of those rare peaceful instants in this mad world.

I stretch up my neck a bit, trying to relax muscles that have been too tense, for too long.

"Here." And his hands suddenly land on my shoulders.

I was certainly not expecting him to touch me. Not after all the times he's recoiled when I came near. Not while I'm actually naked.

I shiver and close my eyes. He's massaging my neck skilfully enough that I can't help letting out a moan. And so, he stops. I guess I killed the moment. Though his fingers don't leave my skin just yet. One featherlike hand ghosts down my spine. And traces a scar crossing my back. Then it's gone.

No word is needed. We both know what they mean.

So, I lie back down, with the shirt still loosely hiding private parts. But I guess it doesn't cover the left side of my lower stomach, because he suddenly asks:

"What's this one?"

I glance to confirm where he's pointing.

"It looks like a pellet gun."

I chuckle. He's good. "Aye, it is."

"Fuck! Who the fuck shot ya?"

"My father."

He remains silent for a while and I open my eyes again to see him incredulously staring at me.

So, I sit up again and clarify: "He didn't truly mean to. But that still helped me to get rid of him for good. I left him in a mental hospital… So I guess he must be dead by now." I shrug, as if this didn't affect me.

"Damn, ya' dad may be worse than mine…"

I turn to watch him. He shrugs too:

"Mine was just a mean drunk, I guess."

I want to reach for him, maybe just squeeze his arm for comfort. Though I'm wary now. I've already crossed the line too many times. I see him chewing his lip, like he always does when he hesitates to say something. Not unlike Murphy did sometimes.

Then, I feel his hand on my back again, just slowly brushing up my spine. And he leans in to let his lips hover over my shoulder. But he doesn't go all the way.

He's about to pull away when my hand lands on his cheek. So I can cautiously get closer and very softly put my lips on his. He freezes for a second, so I pull away, but remain close to give him the choice.

I can't help smiling when he kisses me back.

It's quick. Unsure. And he immediately sits back to gaze away at the river.

"Ye want to know a secret?" I ask with a cheeky grin.

He just raises an eyebrow at me. So, I confess:

"When ye came back from there, I peeked."

He scoffs, and I'm delighted to watch his ears turn crimson.

Then, he squints at me for a moment before admitting: "Fuck. I did too."

So, I kiss him again.